


Protecting You

by ourdreamsrealized



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst, Breaking Up & Making Up, Comedy, Drama, Dwarven Ones | Soulmates, F/M, Family, Family Drama, Forbidden, Forbidden Love, Hurt/Comfort, Love, Making Up, Pregnancy, Reader-Insert, Romance, Romantic Angst, Romantic Fluff, Soulmates, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-07
Updated: 2019-04-07
Packaged: 2020-01-06 01:52:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18378518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ourdreamsrealized/pseuds/ourdreamsrealized
Summary: Thorin demanded he be there. It was his child, too.





	Protecting You

**Author's Note:**

> Tharkûn = the name given to Gandalf the Grey by the Dwarves  
> Amrâlimê = Khuzdul for “love-of-me” 
> 
> Posting stuff from my Tumblr. Enjoy!

The day you learned of your pregnancy was a day you spent the remaining two years of it trying to forget. You had given up on expelling the memory of the child’s conception, though; that would never leave your mind. 

Even after everything, you did not regret that night or the product of it.

The child’s father, however, was better off not knowing that he had any part in the baby you carried, now, for two and a half years. He had reclaimed a life destined for him, and if the news of you being with his offspring broke out, who knows what would happen. The Kingdom of Erebor was healing, and you weren’t going to be the one to wound it again, even if it meant breaking its king’s heart.

The day you told him that you were carrying still plagued you as you lay awake at night, wishing dreamless slumber would take you. 

“You mean to tell me that you lay with another?” 

His voice was low with a frightening calm, and all you could do was force a nod. If you spoke, you would cry, and he would ask the reason for your tears.

“Well,” he exhaled, and you could tell he was furious by the force with which the air left him. You did not know if he hated you or what you had told him you had done, but if he could no longer love you, you were fine with that. It was better this way, “I guess we were doomed from the start. Were we not?”

You bowed your head, shame that should not even exist gripping at your heart. You wanted to take back your words; you wanted to embrace him and tell him the very thought of breaking your loyalty to him repulsed you, and the thought of being intimate with another…You’d rather die.

“And you are sure that the babe you carry is not of my blood?”

“No,” you looked away, avoiding his lightening blue orbs, “it is not of our time together.”

“And the father?”

“A one-night affair that he certainly does not remember,” you lied, your heart crying out as the words spilled from your mouth in a stream you could not dare to feel.

The silence that followed was maddening, but you kept reminding yourself that this was all for the best. The only person who knew the true lineage of your child was the Gandalf the Grey, and he had been supportive once he heard your reasons. He only tried to deter you once, stating that your lover would find a way to make everything work.

“It is his way, Y/N,” the old wizard attempted to convince you. “He is as stubborn as a mountain, and he will not budge on what he believes to be right.”

But you would not put him through that. 

It was then that Gandalf realized that you were as unmoving as the man you held dear, and he would not stand in the way of your convictions. Instead, he offered to find you a place to stay in Dale, under the new king, Bard. He was willing to keep you in his castle to repay an old debt he owed to you from the Battle of the Five Armies. 

“So you intend to leave, then?” 

Thorin’s question startled you from your internal reassurances, and you found yourself gazing at his face, unable to hide the adoration you felt towards him; it was a light that would forever shine in your E/C eyes.

“I think it to be for the best. Do you not?”

“No,” he lifted his hand, as if to reach for your own, but thought better of it, letting it fall to his side. He bit his lower lip, turning away from you, and for the first time, you realized how agonizing this was for him. “I…I still care for you, and I understand if you want to leave. However, I will not be the one to banish you from these halls.”

His eyes, glimmering in the torch light, found your own, “Before that night in Dale, you were a close friend; you had grown on me, despite my harshness towards you. But…I cannot comprehend what happened between us. I cannot tell you why I wished to love you that first time, and I cannot tell you why it was not the last time. This, I take as punishment for my actions toward you at the beginning of our journey and for my inability to claim you as mine properly. But I will be selfish in requesting that you stay and let me care for you…as a friend would.”

The last four words practically chocked him as if they were poisonous or crude.

It would be—and was—pure torture if you granted him his one wish, but you could not bear to split yourself from him anymore than you had. 

So, here you were, sitting in your own, private chambers, working on one of the many outfits you were making for your unborn babe. Across from you, a book in his grasp, was Gandalf, who became your confidant and close friend since you had told him of your circumstances. 

“I just wish he would come.”

The wizard lowered the book, arching a silver brow at you, “He?”

“Yes. My little one,” you glanced over at him before returning your attention to the cloth and needle in your hands. 

“How are you so certain that it is a male?”

“I just know.”

The old man snorted, resting his book in his lap, “Well, you must be patient. He is half-dwarf, after all, and when a dwarrow is pregnant, she is for about four years.”

“But he is also half-human,” you remarked, a small smile gracing your lips, “and as  _you_  informed  _me_ , other cases similar to my own had shorter pregnancies.”

“True,” he nodded, his eyes falling back to the pages before him. “Just be careful what you wish for. I cannot promise an easy delivery, especially since his father has a rather large ego.”

You snickered at his jest, your E/C gaze flickering to his face in warning. 

But Gandalf had a point. 

* * *

“So this is where you hide?”

The dwarfen king made no move to see who intruded upon his time alone; he did not need to when the voice was a dead give-away. 

“What is it you want,  _Tharkûn_?”

Gandalf joined him, staring down from the balcony and grinning to himself when he saw just what Thorin found so captivating.

“I knew I felt eyes on me when I would sit by that fountain,” he mused, moving his head to smirk at the dwarf next to him, “but only when a certain human was with me.”

Thorin was silent for a moment, rigid in his stance and unbothered by his intentions being revealed, “I do not understand why she still means so much.”

“You love her.”

“Aye,” he whispered, his expression twisting to reveal his brokenness, “but she does not return my affections.”

Gandalf sputtered, a chuckle leaving his lips, for he could no longer hold it in. His friends were mad, simply and utterly idiotic; it was time he stepped in. Too much sorrow resided in the air around the two of you, and it was needless.

“You dare laugh?” the king was appalled, his blue eyes large with fury.

“Of course,” the wizard managed. “Do you not see it? Are you really that blind, Master Dwarf?”

“What?” he growled, turning to face him fully. “Explain yourself at once!”

“Y/N loves you with ever piece of her being. Her feelings for you are unmatched.”

“But she went to bed with another!”

“Nay, Master Dwarf. She, of her own will, is completely and irrevocably yours. She wouldn’t dare betray you, but she would create falsehoods to protect you.”

“So then the babe…” 

“…is a son of Oakenshield.”

If Gandalf could capture the amount of emotions that had crossed the king’s face he would have gladly done so and given it to you to enjoy for all eternity. It was almost comical the way his stone expression morphed into one of confusion followed by surprised, and now, the grandest of smiles was upon the dwarf’s lips as he realized that he could not stay still; he needed to find you.

“Where is she?”

“Delivering as we speak.”

Thorin’s face fell, snarling, “And you neglected to tell me that?”

“I had not meant to tell you anything at all,” Gandalf answered, watching in slight amusement as the dwarf started in a sprint down the corridor.

* * *

Another scream ripped from your throat as a contraction tore through you, greeting you with a new level of pain that you had never experienced before.  

“You need to breathe, Y/N,” Dis said from beside you, her hand clasped firmly by your fingers.

You were trying to—you really were—but the discomfort ran from your opening, up your spine; that was all you could focus on. The feeling of a thousand knives finding your pelvis, something you had never encountered, was, without a single doubt, the equivalent of the agony your body was going through in the present moment.

“Let me in there this instant!” 

The exclamation came from outside your room, and even with your thoughts on the task at hand, you realized that Thorin was on the other side of your door. However, you had no inkling as to why he wanted to be present for the birth of a child you had led him to believe was a result of your unfaithfulness.

“But, Your Highness, it would be improper!”

“We need you to start pushing, Y/N,” Óin told you, looking up at you, his hands positioned to aid the new life in coming from its mother.

You nodded, closing your eyes and clenching your muscles as another cry left your lips.

“I do not care about what is proper and what is not! I demand to be present for the birth of this child!”

“But, My Lord, the child is not yours, and you are male…”

You pushed a second time, and Óin encouraged you, stating that he could now see the head.

“The baby  _is_  mine!”

You froze.

“Y/N, stay in here.  Ignore them. You have to keep pushing.”

Despite the panic that suddenly overtook you at hearing Thorin’s declaration, you willed yourself to disregard what was happening with him and to focus on bringing your child into the world.

This became increasingly difficult when the doors to your chamber were thrown open and a very agitated dwarf made his way over to your side.

“Thorin…” you gasped as he took your hand between his. 

“I am here,  _Amrâlimê_ ,” he pressed a kiss to your temple. 

All you could manage was a nod before another bought of pain flashed through you, causing you to close your eyes and push harder. At this point, all you wanted was for the baby to be born.

“You’re so close, Y/N! Just a bit more…” Dis said excitedly, having peaked back where Óin sat. 

You groaned, trying to keep your breathing steady as you forced your muscles to apply more pressure, and it happened so fast. The silence was broken by ear-piercing wails. Relief crashed down on your body with a welcomed strength, and Óin got to his feet, his eyes locked on the features of the little one in his arms, who flailed about, screaming at the top of its lungs. 

“Congratulations,” your healer turned his attention to you, “he seems to be in perfect health.”

The dwarf handed the bloodied baby to Dis, who left your side to assist in cleaning her new nephew.

Thorin, whose expression was one of unmatched admiration and love, fell from the babe in his sister’s arms to you. You could tell he wished to go to his son, but he remained by your side, understanding that your part was not quite done.

* * *

After delivering the afterbirth, Dis came over to you, your baby boy wrapped in a warm towel. He was spotless now, and you could finally lay eyes on his adorable face. His eyes were like windows, and through them you could see the sky. They were Thorin’s eyes, and when they found your own E/C gaze, it finally hit you.

This was your child. This was his child, and he was lovely.

“He’s all his father,” you choked, trying to keep your emotions at bay.

Thorin was silent at your statement, and when you turned your head to look at him, you found him staring at you, his dark brows furrowed as he searched your face.

“Why did you hide him from me?” he asked, his tone was soft but, interwoven with it was an underlying sorrow that crumbled your heart. 

“Thorin,” your expression fell, “you are a dwarf, and I am born of man.”

“That matters not to me! I—”

Your smile stopped him from continuing his rant. You lifted one of your hands to his cheek, the roughness of his beard tickling the skin of your fingertips, “But what of your people? What would they think of their king giving his heart and line to a human?”

“I do not care…”

You caressed his face, “But I care for your peoples’ opinions. They need a strong king and a strong heir. Your blood may be seen as tainted when joined with mine.”

Thorin took your hand from him, giving it a gentle squeeze contrary to his sneer, “Let them think as they please. My title and my ancestors tie me to my people, but my heart and soul belong to you.”

He pressed your palm to his chest, intertwining your fingers with his own.  

“You gave me the greatest gifts,  _Amrâlimê_. Yourself,” he glanced over at his son, a grin smoothing over his harsh features, “and this little one.”

He ran the pad of his pointer down the baby’s chubby cheek, causing the boy to place his undivided attention on his father. 

“I intend on protecting you both,” he whispered, pressing his lips to yours in a gentle kiss that you welcomed with a blissful sigh. 


End file.
